


With Love, False or True

by LadyHatake



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: Character Growth, Domestic elements, F/M, Falling In Love, Female Reader of Color, Friendship, Manipulation, Mutual Pining, Non-Dramatic Love Triangle, Racial Issues Briefly Discussed, Reader is the Oldest Facillier Daughter, Sexual themes addressed in later chapters, Slow Burn, Villain!Reader, dark themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-04-06 10:12:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19060567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyHatake/pseuds/LadyHatake
Summary: A last-second order allows a fifth villain descendant to be granted entrance into the shining kingdom of Auradon. The eldest and most cunning of Dr. Facillier’s coven of daughters— and one mysteriously well-acquainted with the kingdom’s royalty. You’d always thought yourself cold, vicious, and a bit selfish underneath the porcelain mask of charm; to forget you had a heart was what you’d always strived for. But in the end...what could you really say? You'd made a grave mistake by underestimating something you'd thought foolish. A simple kiss had brought people back to life in the past.Love had thawed frozen hearts. In the end, you'd been the fool to think it couldn't thaw yours.[[A temporary summary until I can think of one better suited!]]





	1. First Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moments from exiting the Isle of the Lost, the agents of Auradon find themselves receiving a last-minute call from HQ. They've retrieved the four villain heirs- but now, under the indecisive order of Prince Ben, they've been assigned to take a fifth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find that it's easier to set a scene with an objective view first, so the first part of this short opening chapter was written in third person's point of view. The second half, and most of all other chapters will be in second person's p.o.v. (as in ' _you_ ' did this, or said that). Okay? :)

“Devil spawn, daughter of Maleficent…” The chauffer gave her a light grimace as she climbed haughtily into the limosine. “On board.” There was a pause as a russet-skinned boy slid into the cab with a mischievous grin. “Son of Jafar…check. Son of Cruella de Vil, check….and….”

The Auradon agent sighed discreetly, checking off the last name on his notepad, double-checking for good measure. “Daughter of the Evil Queen,” He shot a quick look inside the limousine’s grand interior, his lips twitching reluctantly at a rather sly smile given to him by the blue-clad villainess with a crown of twin braids adorning her midnight locks. “Accounted for. That’s it. That’s all four of ‘em.”

Said teens shared a look just before the limo’s door closed and the agent returned to his post at the passenger’s door of the vehicle. He had been about to climb in when he was stopped by his partner holding up a hand. The communicator at his ear screeched in a bout of static suddenly, and he winced before the voice of a nervous-sounding Auradon secretary met his ears.

“Of course….right away, ma’am. No, there’s no problem. You caught us right at the point of exit. Understood.” His partner was the first to reply, and both agents abruptly closed their doors. 

“So, there’s another.” The agent sighed, gazing agitatedly upon his official listings. Wondering how long it’d take to decide on another villain-heir among their crowd of onlookers, he scowled. “How bothersome.”

“Did I hear someone say my name?” A warm voice, sweet like the richest of chocolates met their ears, and although they found their souls oddly pleased at the murmur, their shoulder’s tensed as a dark-haired beauty holding a tattered old suitcase stepped forward. 

In the moments following, the villain children found themselves wondering what was causing the hold-up. Then, the door once again opened and a girl was being helped into the spacious cab, her gloved hand being held by a larger, dark-skinned one adorned with pale scars and skeleton rings. Standing outside the door was a tall, thin man dressed in a particular tattered eggplant tailcoat and blood-red belt. 

“Daughter of Dr. Facillier…” The Auradon agent, the one driving shifted in disconcertion as he waited for the new villain-and-daughter-duo to say their goodbyes. “Welcome aboard.” 

“Principal F?” Evie asked in surprise, gaping along with the other teens as the newcomer settled in and placed her ancient suitcase on the carpeted floor. 

“Not your principal anymore, my dear.” Principal, or rather _Doctor_ Facillier responded with a friendly, if not slightly menacing jack-o-lantern grin. “ _Congratulations, all of you_ …” He turned to the now settled teen, and held her gloved knuckles briefly to his high cheekbones before leaning back out. “May all the forced of wickedness follow you wherever you may go…”

As the limousine pulled away, Mal could’ve sworn she saw Mr. F’s eyes flash a brighter, richer purple as he mouthed something suspiciously akin to, “ _Don’t disappoint your father_.”

“Uh….um…” Evie fumbled, licking her full, pink lips, gazing with wonder at the unfamiliar teen, her face still hidden by dark, chocolaty locks. “Hey! Freddie, right?”

“Hn.” The girl sniffed, making Evie frown at the definite ‘no’. Principal F had two daughters, right? So, it had to be the other one. What was her name...? 

“Celia?” Carlos guessed, and after that, the girl turned to them, her cool eyes somehow made colder by the small, empty smile on her lips.

“ _Don’t_ call me Celia.” The girl responded, not with a snap or a hiss, but Carlos flinched back all the same. 

How was that possible? Save Evie, who'd been castle-schooled until just recently, the group had known of Freddie and Celia for nearly their entire lives- yet had never heard of a third daughter? What was that about? 

‘ _I thought Mr. F only had two daughters,_ ’ Mal thought in interest and a bit of distaste as she eyed the unfamiliar teen. The girl’s dark beauty rivaled Evie’s— which was in its own way, surprising, and in another way threatening. The darkness she radiated made Mal jealous in her heart of hearts. 

When people looked at _her_...did they see a villain heiress, dark descendant of the infamous Maleficent? Like this newcomer, did they see immediately that she was an heiress to evil? Mal had the blood of dark faeries and dragons running through her veins, for Lucifer’s sake!

Or…did they see a simple human? Someone who could never measure up to her mother, in neither despicable deed nor formidable evil? For Mal was also half human, and had often been tormented, even by her own mother, by the idea that she had her father’s human heart and weak human conscience. How could it be that this new girl, daughter of some has-been witch doctor could emanate such natural malevolence when she herself had worked so hard to accomplish what little she had? It had never been enough.

Evie would tell Mal that her beauty was something to be proud of; something to be enhanced with eye shadows, contours and lipsticks. _Mal_ would say her feminine features were just another reminder of how very human she was, and how she would never be worthy of her heritage. 

The daughter of Maleficent was shaken from her thoughts by said teen, who had pointed out the large selection of sweets the boys were currently doing their best to devour. The princess herself had chosen some spiky blue crystallized sugar on a stick to suck on as they approached the island’s rocky shores. When it came time to cross the barrier, each teen screamed as they thought for sure, that the agents of Auradon planned on drowning and killing them, sacrificing themselves in the process.

Well…each teen screamed, but one. 

Rolling down the window, Dr. Facillier’s daughter, who wasn’t Freddie and wasn’t Celia gazed at Mal with a knowing smile. As they crossed the barrier, surrounded by golden rings of light forming a magical bridge, Mal saw her eyes glow purple.

And for once, Mal knew she’d found a shade of purple she didn’t like. She didn’t enjoy it one bit.

* * *

Arriving at Auradon was sort of like stepping out of the limo and into, well...a fairytale. 

The lawns were luscious green and manicured; the stone driveway they stood upon, perfectly chiseled and brushed without any stray leaf or scuff. The skies had not a cloud in the massive expanse of deep blue, and not a spec of dirt nor stray hair marred the perfection of the people in attendance. Being the first one out of the limousine, as you were the last one to enter, you set your old leather suitcase on the smooth stone path and stood to attention.

The initial introductions between the other teens and the rulers of Auradon went just as expected— stiff, awkward, and bordering on painful. For your part, you eyed King Beast (i.e. King _Adam_ ) with a bit of vague recognition and nodded to Queen Belle with a smile when it was your turn for pleasantries. Curiously, you studied the yellow-and-blue banners flying proudly in the wind, observed the golden life-sized sculptures about the yard…and, noted the neat color coordination of the next royal that stepped up. 

He was clad in a midnight blazer with silver buttons and some form-fitting yellow trousers (obviously tailored to his exact measurements). A large golden pin at his breast identified his royal blood and place in the hierarchy of Auradon. 

Prince Ben, whose idea – nay, command – it was to allow the villain children a first chance at a better life, had just stepped forward eagerly to shake hands with the son of the evil and cunning Jafar. You found yourself hiding a smirk at his wide, unassuming grin.

"It is so, so, so good to finally m _e-e_ t you." The young man faltered briefly when struck straight in his princely sternum. Never losing his smile, nor his inherent cool, the boy quickly moved on to the next in line.

Straightening when Prince Whatever-His-Name-Was began actually shaking hands down the line, you brushed a rather dusty braid over one shoulder, feeling the heat the sun provided soaking into your dark locks. Leaning back against the hot, inky fiberglass of the limousine just behind, you observed the prince give an extended, almost dumbfounded look while shaking hands with Maleficent’s daughter. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you slipped off your gloves and waited to greet the young prince. 

"This is a momentous occasion— and one that I hope will go down in h–history..." You watched as the blonde raised his hand to touch his fingers briefly to his lips in mystified mirth. "Chocolate?"

Weren’t princes supposed to be brave, fair and charming? So far, you’d observed nothing but an almost dangerous happy-go-lucky demeanor, a bit of a nervous disposition, and…nothing remarkable in the least. Hair, a washed-out shade of blonde, and eyes a most unremarkable hue of green. Just like hers— _Mal's_. You tried not to smirk meanly at the thought. Though aesthetically acceptable in an untarnished, pristine-white-tulip sort of way, everything about this Prince screamed…' _simple_ '.

But what more was to be expected of the offspring of a self-centered King and a bookworm Queen? That was Auradon for you. They seemed to specialize in simplicity.

"As the day our two peoples began to heal." Boring. Touching, maybe...but boring and undeniably _stupid_.

"Or the day that you showed four people where the bathrooms are!" An obnoxious, sarcastic voice rang out mockingly just as the prince had touched Evie’s hand. Glancing over, you couldn’t help the annoyed look that you knew crossed your face. Speaking of stupid...was that meant to be a joke?

The Prince, now focused on Mal, chuckled briefly before turning back to her just as he was about to move on from Evie to greet the next in line— _you_. Letting go of the blue-clad girl’s dainty hand, he stepped back toward Maleficent’s heir. Despite your opinions on skin-to-skin contact, you found yourself thinking, ' _how rude_ '.

"A little bit over the top?" The blonde asked sheepishly, and you noted that while _his_ attention might not have been on you, his girlfriend was giving you a look that almost seemed apologetic. 

"Little more than a little bit, heheh," Mal awkwardly chuckled back, despite being the one who’d spoken out. Now you did roll your eyes, ignoring the distracted hand that had just been extended to you.

Right. Well, fortunately for him, you didn't shake hands anyway. Let alone halfhearted hands that were only held out due to obligation. One should know better than to do so with a witch doctor's daughter in the first place. On that note, he should've been glad Jafar's son hadn't opted to take his hand– those polished golden cuff links? Would've been _gone_.

"Well, so much for my first impression..." The Prince slowly let the hand drop and only briefly glanced your way with a friendly smile— but you’d already turned away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Descendants has a disheartening lack of reader inserts, don't you think? Ben is adorable, but the very _very_ few reader inserts I could find were either underdeveloped or...on wattpad (and I hardly glance at those). IMO no truly self-respecting author posts to wattpad. I do halfheartedly apologize if you, the reader, post or read there. Anyway. I specialize in slow-burn stories, and I love to explore the settings of each fandom-verse, so the romance will be a slow, near non-existent build at first...but you'll have multiple chapters to look forward to if you decide to follow my story. :) 
> 
> If you'd like to read more, any comments are welcome! :D


	2. The Fifth Villain Child

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _When you are old and grey, and full of sleep_   
>  _and nodding by the fire, take down this book, ___  
>  _and slowly read, and dream of the soft look_   
>  _your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep_
> 
>  
> 
> — W.B. Yeats, _When You Are Old_

“Do bring the delicate china, Mrs. Potts.” Belle murmured, ushering the little plump housekeeper out the door. Handing her the last golden candle-holder, the she continued “Maybe a slightly larger selection for our guest? I want this meeting to drag on just a bit, so please fix a nice milk tea and something to nibble on. Alright? Thank you, thank you…” 

The Queen closed the door behind the tutting woman, who was more like a mother or grandmother than a simple maid, and sighed as she leaned back against the polished mahogany. Raising a hand to her unblemished, nearly poreless forehead Belle gathered herself before crossing the room to stand at her grand stone balcony. Pushing open the curtained glass doors, she placed her hands upon the burning marble and took in the sight of her courtyard before her. The perfectly manicured lawns and the even more perfectly manicured people occupying the yard gleamed up at her in the mid-morning sunlight. 

What was she so worried about? The queen asked herself. She’d been faced with this exact predicament in the past, hadn’t she? Pondering this, Belle caressed the back of one gold-painted book, atop a small reading table, recalling a familiar memory of her own brave decision to run to the aid of Adam when everyone else had condemned him to death. Ben was proving to be more and more like her everyday. 

Knowing this, she smiled. However, this didn’t stop her from slipping the little golden book into the drawer of her balcony table as she sat comfortably on her reading chair. She’d bade Mrs. Potts to take the shiniest of trinkets and valuables with her when leaving the room- hence the candle-holders she’d been struggling to carry while leaving the room. With the precious metals out of the way, little in the room possessed much in the way of strict monetary value; if you discounted the fact that nearly each cherished novel in her private study was first-edition and had been signed by each their respective authors. Even Shakespeare’s elusive, inky yet elegant scrawl had not been spared from the reach of King (then Prince) Adam’s time-bending mirror. 

Now with a frown, Belle closed the drawer, seeing the gold shine narrow and then disappear behind the rosewood. She didn’t want to assume the worst of her guests, and she did trust her son, but….one could never be too careful after all. Especially around the children of villains. All the same...wasn’t there good in everyone?

There had to be. Yes, of course there was. There was certainly a time everyone would’ve called her own husband an agent of evil— and a monster. Not only a beast, but a monster. And they couldn’t have been more wrong. Just look at how things had changed...and for the better. Just look at the kingdom she and Adam had built together. If he, once a selfish and cruel prince could evolve into an unselfish and charismatic King, then surely, anyone could change. 

Belle had brought out the best in him through kindness and patience. What right had she, to assume Ben couldn’t do the same for these villain children?

“Love? My dear Belle?” A voice called from the doorway to her study. 

Looking up in surprise, Belle realized more time had passed than she’d thought. Smoothing her dress, she stood and took even, unhurried steps to reach the doorway, where she only just held back a smile at the sight of her husband— and the little voodoo princess standing at his arm. 

“Come in, come in!” Belle beamed, determined not to let any of her perhaps unwarranted anxiety show. She remembered the girl’s small smile upon meeting her and her husband, and the slow, deep nod she’d given them. Something in that small movement had struck a chord in her...almost as though awakening a memory long forgotten. 

“As you remember," Belle went on, relieved that she would now speak with this girl. Though it had only been an hour or so since the Isle children's arrival, Belle felt as though she'd been waiting years. "I am Queen Belle, and this is my private study. I’m so happy you agreed to meet with us today!”

“Of course.” The daughter of Dr. Facillier murmured, releasing her gentle hold on King Beast’s arm as she bowed low. There was a slight breathy, not altogether kind undertone to her voice that went mostly unnoticed by the royalty in the room. “Not at all, your _Majesty_. The pleasure is all mine.”

* * *

“This way, dear. We’ll be taking tea out in the open, where the sunlight can shine in, and we can observe the grounds.” Belle smiled as she led them to the middle of the room, where a small crystal table and two low couches had been placed over a thick royal bleu de France rug. “It’s my favorite place to welcome guests.”

You could see why. The room was not as much wide and spacious as it was narrow and tall— and you could see that it likely made up one of the twisting, grand towers as seen from out in the courtyard. A private office, as the King had told you (likely babbling to fill a perceptibly uncomfortable silence) and one comprised of only the _most favorite_ books of Queen Belle. 

“Have you really read all of these?” You asked in curiosity as you gazed up, up and up at the rows of books. Several silver staircases scaled the width and height of the room, along with many sliding ladders attached to the shelves. 

“Yes.” Belle answered with a fond smile. “Each and every one.” There was a pause before she continued, seeing you sat down at one of the soft cushions. “Do you read much at home, my dear?”

“Every day.” You admitted, seeing no harm in revealing the fact. Carefully, you crossed your ankles and placed your legs to the side in a show of proper etiquette, despite lack of proper dress. You felt the scuffs and small rips in your black dyed jeans catch slightly at the motion; nonetheless, you saw the Queen do the same with an encouraging smile. “That’s something we have both in common. I was home schooled for most of my life. As a result, I had my own private study as well.”

“Did you?” Queen Belle asked, delighted. “How wonderful!”

You neglected to mention that your own private study had been one of the most terrible and dark libraries on the Isle of the Lost— your father’s Library of Forbidden Secrets. You beamed at Queen Belle's exclamation, and nodded respectfully to the gray-haired maid who’d just come into the room. The Queen smiled radiantly back. 

A radiance, you were sure came from growing and living in the lap of luxury. 

In other words, a radiance she couldn’t have achieved otherwise, and one that paled quite literally in comparison to your own. Something nasty and restless grew in the pit of your stomach as you eyed the King and Queen of Auradon. You’d been raised to despise royalty, though by blood belonging to a royal family tree of your own. Looking at these royals, however, something else ached inside of you. You weren’t sure what it was…whether it was discomfort in the change of scenery or social atmosphere. Or whether it was just _you_.

You had every reason to hate these people. _Every_ reason to hate them. Despite this, you felt that ache again, and some treacherous voice in your head told you to just.... _let it go_. Maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible. To _not be terrible_ …at least for the time being. You’d also been raised to show respect— and respect you’d given, to them, for getting you off that terrible island. For giving you this opportunity.

But, now wasn’t the time for that. There was still plenty of time to ponder on _that_. You were a villain, after all. 

You didn’t let any of your internal conflict show on your face. Schooling your expression, you forced it into one of serenity. You promised yourself then; you would keep that look in the presence of these _people_ , even if it killed you. 

“If I may ask,” You inquired, planning to ask even if they weren’t comfortable. “-why it was I who was called here today? Forgive me, but wouldn’t it have been more prudent to call upon the faerie’s daughter?”

“The…ehem, the what? Excuse me?” King Beast asked rather awkwardly, adding a couple cubes of sugar to his tea before everything had even been laid out. 

You forgave the brief fumble for words, smiling instead and observing the simple spread that had been laid out. The maid had brought all that was needed for what you guessed was a ‘proper’ tea: a small silvery tower of sandwiches and sugary confectioneries, as well as a tiny pitcher of milk, a delicate bowl of sugar cubes, and even a small selection of cheeses. The china that had been laid out was pristine white, thin, and....and... 

“Um, um, uh—!” The King sputtered in shock and Belle’s mouth hung open a bit in mortification as you raised your teacup (if it could be called that) to your face. “O-of course! You mean the spawn— I, I mean, the daughter of Maleficent, yes? I….”

You hid a smirk behind a gloved hand and then swallowed down an all-out laugh as King Beast turned pink with a hand to his forehead. The maid had given a exaggerated, almost child-like shrug, and had fled the room by this time, followed by the Queen's wide cocoa eyes. You couldn’t hide a small bout of laughter this time, and enjoyed the twin looks of embarrassment upon the King and Queen’s faces. 

“I…I’d be happy to personally fetch you a new cup, Miss Facillier.” King Beast sighed, though something inside him had calmed undeniably at the unexpected lightness of your voice. Unknowing to him, the Queen felt exactly the same, seeing your momentarily cheerful face and carefree grin. Before you’d spoken, she knew a new cup wouldn’t be necessary. 

“I’m sorry!” You chuckled delightedly, looking down into the amber liquid of your teacup. Though indeed crafted from delicate porcelain and covered in the most exquisite of floral patterns, it was roughly the same size as the saucer it had been placed on- and twice as tall. You smiled as you realized that this had to have been an honest mistake, and not some attempt to mock you. “I’ve just never been presented with china of this…magnitude.” 

You set the cup down once more upon the saucer and smiled genuinely for once as the both of them seemed to deflate in relief. You poured a bit more than was strictly necessary in your cup (a little less than half it’s complete capacity) and nodded as King Beast offered to pour a bit of milk in your tea. 

These poor fools…fools indeed. What had brought this on? Nevertheless, it had made you laugh- actually laugh, for the first time in months.

“I assure you, it wasn’t intentional.” Belle smiled kindly, and you simply nodded, taking a sip of your admittedly wonderful tea. So much less bitter and less murky than the weak, old tea that had often arrived on the Isle in moldy crates. 

“It’s completely fine.” You waved it off. “Please forgive my outburst. The uniqueness is wonderful.” Uniqueness…on the Isle, uniqueness was valuable only in manner of evil scheme. “Yes, I had been talking about her— _Mal _. Surely, she’d have been better suited for discussion between you and the Isle kids. I’m simply the daughter of a witch doctor.”__

__You’d have made anyone else eat the words that just came out of your mouth. For now, you deemed it necessary. You needed to gain some favor here._ _

__“I’m sure we’ll have the opportunity to speak with her later. For now, I’d like to speak with you, my dear…that is, I’d like to know…” The Queen seemed to shrink into herself a bit as she shot a look towards her husband. At this, you straightened a bit, and pulled your thick braid over one shoulder, suspecting something much more serious to be spoken next.__

 _ _“How much you…well, we’d— _I’d_ like to know if you remember....meeting us." Belle's eyes seemed to beg with you understand...and suddenly, you knew exactly what she was talking about. She seemed hesitant to go on; likely due to the flat look suddenly overtaking the brightness that had filled your eyes. "When you were younger, that is.” _ _

"It...would've been about twelve years ago." The King added helpfully, apparently remembering as well. He too sat a bit straighter, getting a more somber look about his grand face. A few long moments passed- almost a complete minute before you responded. 

__“I remember.” You murmured eventually, gazing into your tea; seeing your face and beauty being reflected off the dark surface. Darkness too was in your wilted expression…but, you wondered; had they called upon you because they’d also seen some manner of light? It certainly seemed like it.__

What a joke. 

“I remember...an expanse of bright, shimmery yellow.” You murmured, looking back into Belle’s suddenly stricken face. “Rolling waves. The heat of Louisiana sun beating down on me…and a head of full, chestnut hair.” You smiled, though it had no warmth in it. “Then, I remember nothing but darkness.”

__Conflict in Belle’s and the Beast’s eyes both, they gazed at each other, and then looked down, through the crystal table through the floor. Somehow, Belle hadn’t noticed that after all this time, you still toted your old battered suitcase._ _

__But the Queen and King had no time to reply after that, for the silence was broken suddenly by a soft knock at the door. Almost before they could lift their heads, you had stood and gone, with your suitcase to the other side of the room, where their son, Prince Ben also stood. Obviously, Belle thought with dismay, the conversation was over.__

__

__Having just entered the room, Ben paused, confused momentarily at seeing _you_ in his mother's private library. Then he bounced back just as quickly and straightened his blazer, stepping into the room._  
_

__“Hey! Sorry I didn’t get to greet you earlier.” Ben smiled brightly, and somewhat apologetically as you approached him. "That was rude of me, wasn't it? I’m Ben! It's...nice to...meet you.”__

____

____

The prince trailed off as you simply brushed past him without a word. Not stalking or rushing past, but simply taking calm strides, until you were out the door and out of sight. King Beast stood, worried suddenly that you wouldn't be able to find your way back through the twisting, identical halls. Holding up a hand, Ben gave his father a reassuring look and hurried after you. Left alone, the King and Queen simply sat on their small couch and eyed the massive teacup that rested in your saucer. 

"Oh dear..." Belle murmured sadly, gazing at your surprisingly empty teacup. How had you drank all of it so fast? It was half full the last time she'd looked. That, more than anything else so far was evidence of your depraved you'd been...since that day. Regarding the tower of sweets, she noted you hadn't chosen anything to eat from any of the choices. 

What a mess. The sight of your expressionless face made her cringe somewhere inside. Was it really possible that you'd been laughing, looking so carefree just minutes earlier?

"Maybe Ben's doing what we should've done in the first place, my love." King Beast laid his hands gently upon his wife's shoulders. "Have faith, Belle. I'm sure everything will turn out...just as it's supposed to. You'll see."

* * *

"Hello?" You grimaced at the happy-go-lucky voice of the little prince as he called after you. "Hello? Miss? Please, I'd love to escort you to your room! I fear you'd get lost otherwise!"

Snorting discreetly, you found a little niche between two glass-enclosed art pieces and slid yourself between. You were good at blending into the darkness; maybe too good— and the wooden pedestals were thick enough to hide your entire body and then some as the prince strolled carelessly past.

"Hello!? Miss Facillier!? I'm sorry if you're upset— please, if you can hear me, just call out!"

You waited until he was well out of earshot, and then lowered your suitcase to the floor in front of you, the tension leaving your shoulders. Really. Who did this prince think he was taking to? One of those princesses that flipped their perfect hair and swooned when he smiled their way? Please. Just please. 

Sighing, you slid to the floor and stared at your dirty boots— the typical choice of footwear for Isle folk. The rocky soil and the broken glass that permitted the grounds made it practical, and nothing on the Isle was without dirt and soot. 

You were _not_ a princess, and you'd never call yourself as much. Royal bloodline aside, that title would imply your father was a king, which he most certainly was not. Your deceiving, despicable deadbeat of a mother who'd left you early in life had been no queen either. Then again, you'd only heard stories about her...but what did it matter? In that respect, it wasn't as though being royal meant much. 

Between your boots, you unbuckled your old, firm, leather-and-wood suitcase and pulled out a little leather pouch. From inside the pouch, you pulled a little square of silk, not much larger than the palm of your hand, but inside was something....was something. 

Two black pearls, mounted to each a silver stud, just waiting to be placed in your earlobes. Beautiful— undeniably the most beautiful things you owned. 

"How pretty." A pair of sandals came into view, slowly, and you immediately closed your fist over the little earrings even though this person had already seen them. 

A smiling face was revealed as the person, a boy, crouched low to the ground and slowly held out his hands. "May I have a look? I'll be careful, I promise." 

"A look?" You asked doubtfully, and let your suitcase fall closed with a muted thud. 

"Just a look." The boy smiled brightly; a big, wide grin with dimples and white, pearly teeth that nearly blinded you in their wake. You blinked and scoffed. 

"Just a _look_." You allowed, albeit suspiciously. If asked later, even you couldn't say exactly why you did it. "Try and take them, and I won't be pleased about it." 

_And you wouldn't like it if I got angry,_ you thought darkly, feeling the shadows shift suddenly around you in a strange sort of dance. Nonplussed, the curious boy with the vibrant red hair plopped down at your toes and gently brought your hands closer. His fingers closed carefully around the fabric of your orange opera gloves, just below your wrists, and hummed as he inspected the little pearls.

"Excellent shape." The boy nodded approvingly, turning your hands a bit as he examined all sides of the pearls. "Beautiful shine to them. Free of any blemish or dullness, and if you look ever so closely...." He paused, his lips quirking up at one of the corners. "You can see just a fleck or two of green in the darkness of them. It's actually quite charming." 

"Hm. I've never thought to look at them that closely." You muttered, feeling a bit uncomfortable at the proximity and the look on his face, which was slowly breaking into another grin as he glanced up at you. 

"I was talking about your eyes." The boy grinned and then chuckled at the look of surprise on your face. You grimaced then, but couldn't help laughing briefly at his forwardness. "The pearls are nice too."

"Okay, get off me." You closed your hands around the silk once more and tucked the earrings away inside the leather pouch. Then you stood, waving away the boy's offered hand. Raising an eyebrow, you took a once-over of his clothing and your lips twitched at his choice of khaki's and a tailored floral button-up. An embroidered, pastel blue straw-hat hung over his back attached to a woven cord around his neck. With the sandals, he wouldn't look at all out of place on the beach, or, maybe even on vacation in the jungle or something. 

"I'm Aries, by the way." The boy shrugged, seemingly nonchalant. "I wasn't kidding about your eyes- or, or the pearls, I guess. I mean, I actually do know quite a bit about them." He smiled that dimpled grin again, a faint flush to his cheeks. "Black pearls, or rather gray pearls, come from the mouth of a specific type of oyster. A Tahitian Pinctada margaritifera, to be exact. Ha. There's a thick ring of black around the interior shell that...that gives the pearl it's gray color during formation."

"Is that so?" You smiled at him, and saw something in his face soften. Despite the hesitation in his voice, he didn't seem afraid of you, and didn't seem to be walking on eggshells with his words either. You couldn't find it in yourself to deny that you appreciated this; it felt like the most honest interaction you'd had all morning. 

"They're quite rare." The boy, Aries, went on. "It's actually a little fascinating. To me, at least." He offered to hold your suitcase, and on a whim, you handed it over. He smiled a bit brighter at that, as the both of you began to walk back down the corridor. The boy seemed to know where he was going. "I love the ocean."

Nodding, you studied him from the corner of your eye and looked back down at the ground. Your gloved hand clenched around the leather pouch and you slipped it into your jean pocket, high up on your waist. Then you adjusted your rather dirty and dusty 'white' scarf around your shoulders and sighed. 

"What's wrong?" Your new companion asked. Wondering if he was mocking you or anything along those lines, you side-eyesd him, but found nothing but a quiet curiosity in his expression. 

"Nothing." You answered, after a moment. _Everything._ "Just tired, I suppose. The agent that was leading me to my room earlier said the dorm might not be ready for a day or so....so, I might have to share a room with two others. Maybe sleep in the same bed. Or on the floor."

"That's not right." The boy shook his head, then looked at you directly; and you realized he was almost a whole head taller than you. "Surely....it wouldn't be that bad, sharing a bed with another girl, right? I mean, it may not be the most comfortable, but...if you really feel the need to sleep on the floor-"

"It's okay." You shrugged, at once regretting having said anything. You didn't want to make it seem like you had begun kicking up a ruckus on your first day. "It'll be fine."

"I could talk to someone?"

"Just forget I said anything. I said it'll be fine." You huffed, looking up at him; at slate blue eyes that were utterly unique as anything you'd ever seen. "And I don't mean to be rude, but you don't even know my _name_. Why are you trying to help me?"

"It's....just human nature, isn't it?" Aries laughed, a bit uncomfortably. "Sorry. I mean....I might have come on too strong. I heard..." He hesitated, throwing you a careful, almost guilty look. "You're one of the kids...from the Isle. I just wanna make sure you're comfortable here. You know? Make you feel _welcome_."

"Why would you do that?" You asked rather dully, holding the door open for him as the two of you passed into a different building. Was this another way to the dorms? "In that case, you know who I am...so why would you voluntarily try and help out a villain kid?"

"It's not your fault." Aries replied, and you didn't meet his eyes as he paused just in front of an official-looking doorway. When you did look up, you saw something soft in his eyes; kindness, you realized. It made something inside you squirm, and so you turned away. 

"Whatever your parents did...it doesn't matter. I believe that." Aries reached out, and you stiffened. This made him pause before he gently laid a hand on your shoulder. The boy smiled reassuringly. "I'm sorry if I came on as a creep, earlier. I was raised to be charming, but it kinda looks like I was the opposite back there. Around here, it's...kind of a theme."

"I noticed." You murmured, and gazed at the hand on your shoulder. Hesitantly, you nodded. "Is any of it genuine? In any of the others, I mean...any of the kindness and charm? Or is it all a front?"

"...Sometimes it is." The teen answered hesitantly after a moment, frowning as though he didn't enjoy admitting it. He didn't look troubled so much as resigned when he continued, "It's not hard to tell- who's being real, and who isn't. It's a bit stereotypical, but I'd say, around our age group, just watch out for people who smile too much. It's pretty obvious." As you passed through the doors (this time with him holding it open for you) he pointed to a silvery building in the distance. "There are the dorms. Now let me show you there. Properly."

Holding out his arm, he nodded expectantly at you; a move that would've been a bit insulting, if not for the look in his eyes and the small smile on his face. Sighing, you took his arm. Just this once. "I thought you just told me not to trust people who smile too much."

It had been around five minutes since you'd met this kid, and you were still holding a conversation? Albeit not a long one, and with a few pauses in between. But still. What was with these Auradon kids? Didn't they _know_ villain kids were bad news? It was an obvious and admittedly accurate stigma. But this guy...

"I never told you my name." You spoke, after a minute or so. In quick succession, you told him your name, and your lineage; all the while _not frowning_ and not even wanting to smirk menacingly at his reaction...because he just smiled, and nodded. Like you were an actual person. 

"It's nice to meet you. I hope you'll be happy here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first note is a stanza of my favorite poem, which is also where I got the title of this story. Thank goodness too, because I struggled with the title for a good amount of hours when I first published it. Give it a read! :D Though if you aren't a fan of Yeats, the poem could hold less meaning than it would if you knew his history. 
> 
> Feel free to point out anything of concern (I might edit the final conversation a bit, but I've kept this un-posted long enough), and a big thanks to those who left kudos. Have a great day! Hope y'all are enjoying the summer! :)


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